I wish I had read this immediately after The Sparrow, (that would be a recommendation), the story picks up from the end of the previous book, (there is no time gap). Emilio's story is wonderful, heartbreaking and satisfying , until....it's not. The scheming and planning that takes place brings up moral and ethical questions, do the ends justify the means? Well...I didn't think so….but it is a question the pope and the cardinal do their best to justify. Many questions are raised about faith, religion and moral consequences of meddling for, what the Jesuits think, is the betterment of the species.

The parts that take place on Rakhat were somewhat confusing and I had to reread several pages to understand the politics of the planet among the different species.

As usual, Russell's writing is beautiful....highly recommend. ( )

This is the sequel to The Sparrow, which I read earlier this year. The Sparrow tells the harrowing tale of what happened to the Jesuit-sponsored mission to Rakhat, a newly-discovered planet in the Alpha Centauri system. In particular, The Sparrow revealed the awful physical and spiritual torment of the priest Emilio Sandoz, which came about because of a fundamental misunderstanding of the alien civilisation the expedition encountered. It’s a very dark, thought-provoking book.

The sequel offers a kind of redemption, as Sandoz, slowly recovering from his shattering experiences, is eventually forced by the Church authorities to return to Rakhat, bitterly against his will—he is, in fact, kidnapped and taken on board the spacecraft while unconscious. The

trip to Rakhat is at a good percentage of the speed of light, lasting only six months for the travellers, but many years will pass on Earth—and on Rakhat—during the voyage.

Russell deals with this travel-time gap very intelligently and does not try to fudge its consequences. Because of this gap in time, Sandoz is torn permanently away from the loving relationship he had begun to establish with a divorced woman and her young daughter on Earth. The inter-personal conflicts with the others on the new expedition who have been complicit in Sandoz’ kidnapping are therefore very sharp and bitter.

When Sandoz arrives back on Rakhat, many years have passed there, too. What he discovers is that the earlier expedition triggered unforeseen, wide-ranging revolutionary consequences. The second expedition thus returns, essentially, to a different world. What has happened during their absence is slowly revealed in flash-backs through the viewpoint of a lone survivor of the first expedition (of whose survival Sandoz has been ignorant), and the viewpoints of a number of the alien species caught up in the changes brought about by the earlier expedition.

This bloody revolution, for which he is partially responsible, presents Sandoz with a new set of ethical dilemmas. Ultimately he finds himself needing to defend, with his life, the very species which had been the source of his torment on the first expedition. And in doing so, place himself against the fierce opposition of someone he once loved.

Like The Sparrow, the sequel is engrossing, unputdownable reading, and you complete it with a sigh, unable to get it out of your head for several days afterwards. ( )

Although it is not quite as good as "The Sparrow," you might want to read this sequel if you liked that first book and want to find out what happens next. Here is the answer, although the sheep and wolves conceit has more of an opportunity to where thin is this sequel. ( )

This book is the sequel to The Sparrow, which should definitely be read first. At the end of The Sparrow, Emilio has returned to earth, emotionally and physically shattered from his experiences on the planet Rakhat. He has turned away from God and is consumed with guilt. In Children of God, Emilio begins to heal but is “recruited” for another mission to Rakhat.

This book clears up several questions left at the end of The Sparrow. We learn more about the history of the planet and how human intervention changed it dramatically. Was it for the better? Well, that’s part of the enjoyment of the novel – figuring out if the human perspective is valid for a planet of alien life forms. We learn more about the cultures of the Runa and Jana'ata and find there is a blended community trying to work together. But there are also extremes at each end of the political spectrum, each trying to exterminate the other. These factions seem realistic and believable. There are quite a few large jumps in time, introducing new characters to provide context, which can get a little disorienting at times.

It is filled with thought-provoking topics – faith, compassion, ethics, cultural interference. I thoroughly enjoyed returning to Rakhat. I appreciate the thoroughness of the linguistic details of the languages, and the sociological analysis of the two alien species. It is certainly a more optimistic book than its predecessor. Taken together, this duology is quite an accomplishment.

4.5
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Mary Doria Russell’s sequel to The Sparrow is another thoughtful, thought-provoking book, well-crafted and dynamic. I felt immediately reconnected to the characters I had left behind far too long ago. If there were anything I would have had differently, it would have been to have read this book immediately after reading The Sparrow. They are so interconnected that they are almost the same book, seamlessly continued.

We find Emilio Sandoz where we left him, on earth and struggling with his relationship to God, his fellow man, the fate of those he has left on Rakhat and how to live a life devoid of the faith he has so long trusted and relied upon. If there is one theme that I believe recurs over and over again in these books, it is the theme of faith. How much of what happens to us is God’s doing, how much has purpose, how much is our failure to listen closely enough and understand God’s voice when he is speaking to us?

There is a moment toward the end of the book when one of the priests makes an observance that I believe sums up what we are meant to take away from this story:

“There’s a passage in Deuteronomy--God tells Moses, ‘No one can see My face, but I will protect you with My hand until I have passed by you, and then I will remove My hand and you will see My back.’ Remember that?

Emilio nodded, listening.

“Well, I always thought that was a physical metaphor,” John said, “but, you know--I wonder now if it isn’t really about time? Maybe that was God’s way of telling us that we can never know His intentions, but as time goes on...we’ll understand. We’ll see where He was: we’ll see His back.”

I had personally never thought about that passage in that way, so it had a profound impact upon me and I saw it immediately as the core truth, a tenet of faith. And, what can thrill more than to find a core truth in the pages of a book?

I will not expound on the story that is here, other than to say it is riveting and perhaps as allegorical as Pilgrim’s Progress without ever seeming to be so. I could relate so much of what happens to events we have seen time and again here on earth. I could feel the anguish and confusion of Sandoz, who has given wholly of himself and feels that God has rejected his offering. It is the feeling that sparked the hatred in Cain to kill Abel, it is the most basic of needs--to have our love returned, it is the thing that makes us human and can make us inhumane.

If you have not read The Sparrow, I cannot urge you strongly enough to do so. If you read The Sparrow, you will read Children of God. Who could leave Sandoz without knowing his fate?
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